


The Outcast Ship

by RainardFox



Category: Star Trek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:41:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25935328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainardFox/pseuds/RainardFox
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a signal of a patrol shuttle was approaching. This meant that seventeen people, trapped in the cargo deck of his ship, would be rescued soon. At last!

The carbon dioxide filters of his spacesuit have long failed. For some time he held out, lowering the percentage of oxygen in the breathing mixture to the limit and dumping excess gas until the oxygen cylinder was empty. The main antenna was disabled, but the old trick sending signal transmission using a ship hull as a short-distance antenna did not fail this time either.

He had time to record a message for rescuers, pointing the location of each living being on board. Nearly losing consciousness, he turned on the transmission. Mission accomplished…

**Deep space somewhere**

'Commander Pavel Andreievich Chekov?'

'Yes sir.'

Chekov slowly opened his eyes. This action should have been difficult for him, but it wasn't. The gaze easily focused on the person nearby.

Too easily.

Despite of two surgeries for his eyes, the vision went worse relentlessly in the past ten years. He raised his hand before his eyes and saw it as clearly as he could not seen for a long time.

'Did you give me some treatment, Doc?' Chekov got up on his elbows and sat down, not experiencing the usual back aches and dizziness. 'Thanks. I thought this time it was done with me.'

'And so it is,' the man whom Chekov considered a doctor answered with a strange amusement in his voice, and patted him familiarly on the shoulder. 'You are dead, dear Pavel Andreievich.'

Chekov froze. He had seen enough in his life to distinguish a joke from a truth and a truth from a lie.

And a human from a non-human, at the second sight.

'How should I address you?' he asked, looking firmly into the eyes of the stranger.

'Call me Q,' the alien responded immediately, holding out his hand to shake.

'Nice to meet you, Mr. Q,' rised from the couch, Chekov shook the outstretched palm, absolutely human to the touch. 'May I ask why you need me?'

The stranger looked at him, squinting mockingly.

'Just like that? No screams "oh my, how could this happen, why to me"?'

'I know how this could happen,' Chekov answered dryly. Despite his age, rank and regalia, he remained at heart a stubborn kid, clenching his fists in response to ridicule. 'It has always been easier to die in the space than to survive. Rescuers should have picked me up, but something went wrong. And so, I died, but now I stand in front of you and even breathe. So you need me for some reason, Mr. Q.'

The stranger laughed contagiously. Wrinkles appeared near the corners of his eyes and his mouth, but it made him look younger.

'As I understand it, you don't mean that you are ready to collaborate,' he said through laughter.

Chekov responded with a complex expression confirming that the stranger was right. Then the stranger suddenly became serious and seemed to have aged.

'I need you to help me exterminate this universe,' he said.  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Deep space somewhere**

'In truth, I've been always loving you humans,' said Q. 'Unpredictable. Funny! Stubborn.'

'There is such thing,' Chekov replied with restraint. He hadn't yet made up his opinion about Q.

However, Q was not exactly trying to make it easier for him. Rather, on the contrary, he was having fun with his own unpredictability.

'You rightly said that in space it was always easier to die than to survive.' He looked at Chekov, studying him. 'Civilizations are dying, falling into stagnation. Civilizations are killing each other. But life resists death. You boldly go where no man has gone before, looking for new civilizations, new ways of development, new ways of life. Do you still remember why the Prime Directive was introduced?'

'I remember.'

'And?' Q waved his hand invitingly.

'In order not to disrupt the natural course of development of new cultures and civilizations.'

'Why shouldn't it be disrupted?'

'Because the existence of new forms of life and of the organization of life increases the chances of life in general for surviving and development", Chekov shrugged. "But you can't say that we never interfered. We can interfere when extermination threatens civilization. Or in the case when culture cannot be defined as living and growing, because of inner or external reasons. This is the duty of representatives of a more advanced civilization.'

There was a pause. Q was looking somewhere to the side, protruding his lips and gathering a couple of sad folds on his forehead above his eyebrows.

'When extermination threatens civilization, or in the case when culture cannot be defined as living and growing,' Chekov repeated, feeling uncomfortable. 'You are a representative of a more advanced civilization. And you want to interfere.'

'This is the duty,' said Q.

*** * *  
**

'You are not the only one who died, Pavel Andreevich. Your Soviet Union is also dead, and with it the influence it had in creating the world as you knew it.'

'Do you mean... the United Federation of Planets? But it exists!'

'It's dying right now. In the present, in the future, and even in the past. Time is a more complex structure than the projection you are constantly dealing with. You can see it yourself.'  
  
Chekov perceived that Q was right. Although his words about the Soviet Union sounded crazy, he was right about the Federation. Something broke and collapsed right now. Humans and their recent allies were crawling like moles into their burrows. The recruitment of cadets to Starfleet was reduced, funding was cut, new ships had not left the shipyards for a long time, and the shipyards themselves were often closed. The population was drawn back to subsistence farming, people refused to eat replicated food, often refused medical assistance, preferring the so-called natural end of life. The Vulcans were scrapping research programs. The Andorians curtailed contact with the outside world. Separate hostile races continued to attack the outposts of the Federation, but this activity gradually became like a ritual action without real political or economic motives.

'Astronomers note unusually frequent cooling of stars,' he remembered suddenly. Everything seemed to go to hell.

Even worse.

It began to seem like it had always been.

'It hadn't always been like that,' Chekov said. 'In Leningrad, where I was born...'

'In Saint-Petersburg,' corrected Q.

'My city hasn't been called that for a long time!' Chekov tried to object, but stopped short. 'So this is how it works… time degradation. But how do you stop it?'

'Simple enough! At the beginning of time there is a zero point, at which it is necessary, let's say, to detonate an information bomb...'

'You're lying,' Chekov suggested.

'Of course, there's nothing easy!' the alien exclaimed in frustration. 'Resistance to destruction and death must always continue. Fierce resistance! The life often loses the fight, especially when it loses the will to resist and descends to a lower energy level. But there is good news too...'

'Resistance is not futile?' Chekov asked.

The alien laughed for some reason.

'Exactly!' he said through laughter. 'Resistance is not futile! When the collective will to resist weakens, then the individual will is what can shift the balance on a case-by-case basis. But the strongest individual will is often aimed at achieving individual goals that are contrary to the interests of the majority. This destroys the remnants of resistance.'

'There need people like you to change the balance?' got interested in Chekov.

'Nope,' Q laughed again. 'People like you.'


	3. Chapter 3

**Talos IV**

They promised each other long ago that when it happens, the remaining one will not keep the illusion that the one who left is still here. Remaining one should devote all his attention to their son and the life of Talosian society. It seemed fair.

But it did not make that less bitter.

It seemed Christopher Pike will have a shorter term. His crippled body could fail at any moment, despite the perfect life support system. But year after year passed, and the fire of life in the captain's body did not think to go out. On the contrary…

Firstly it was about a steak. Talosian's sense of smell was inferior to human, and they could not create a full-fledged illusion of smell. So the protein shake that pretend to be steak has been tasted and textured exactly like in the Pike's memories, but the smell was like wet cardboard. He did not think about it out loud, at the same time his emotions were so acute that the Talosians showed sympathy. By some miracle, they tuned the matrix for the food replicator, and henceforth, protein mix for Pike was synthesized with a ready-made taste and smell.

Then they realized that no illusions saved their prisoner from the dust and mustiness of the underground bunker, no projections gave him the feeling of clean air. He did not complain, but perhaps that is why the sympathy for him grew. The Keepers equipped a lift for him and an outdoor area, around which Vina planted flowers. First the Talosians projected images from the surface for themselves, then they reached out to look at the flowers and the sky with their own eyes. The walking area had to be expanded. It was necessary to reactivate the old service robots. One day, several Talosians managed to launch an ancient glide car and made their first long-distance excursion above their own planet. Then they decided to build several residential buildings on the surface.

The cage remained a cage, but it was becoming more spacious.

Pike still didn't ask for anything, and got everything he didn't ask for. Talosians was attracted to his rich memories like a magnet, and together with the memories they absorbed his dreams, his longing, his despair and his hope. He never stopped passionately dreaming of feeling something new and real, and the Talosians began to feel how much they were losing, spending their lives in illusions.

Now the Talosians were looking for new experiences that could please their captive. He became interested in the history of the Talosian civilization, and a whole group of Talosians began tidy up the information archives and databases. It turned out that before the decline of civilization, they had advanced far in genetic research. Moreover, some laboratories and stores of genetic material survived. That made it possible to restore some destroyed species of animals and plants to repopulate the planet. 

One more thing that Pike did not ask for... but as soon as he seriously thought about this possibility, among the Talosians there were enthusiasts for the revival of the biosphere.

From time to time Spock found an opportunity to visit the former captain. Thanks to Spock, the genetic material of animals and plants from other planets appeared on Talos IV. The day came when a funny furry foal was solemnly released from the incubator. The day came when the one most courageous of the Keepers risked climbing on the back of a grown horse and riding a bit, tasting feelings of fear and delight, to share them with Christopher Pike.

The day came when Vina, with trembling hands, placed a fertilized ovum in an incubator, and months later she picked up a child - little Philip. And then, following her example, the Talosians reached out to the incubator, stunned by the strength and beauty of parental feelings and wishing to experience something similar. Pike Jr. gained a company.

But Vina's age reminded of itself more and more. One day she weakened finally, and her body had also to be connected to the life support system. This could not continue indefinitely. Her life was fading away.

Despite of Vina would want to remain in the memory of her husband and son as a young beauty, she didn’t want to spend her last minutes with the Keepers. They have long learned to be delicate, and at Vina's request they quietly left, getting rid of people from illusions.

Phil, a handsome blond teenager with blue eyes and a stubborn chin, looked at both parents with deep emotion. He knew what they looked like in reality, but he rarely saw them like this. His Mom smiled at him, and her smile seemed beautiful to him, no matter that her face was disfigured. His Dad could not even smile or turn his head, but in a strange way a feeling of love and reliability emanated from him. With the help of her son, the woman raised herself to touch her husband's face with her fingers. The life support indicator on Pike's wheelchair blinked rapidly, betraying his heart beating desperately.

And suddenly the pulsation stopped.


	4. Chapter 4

**Talos IV**

The indicator glowed evenly, although if Christopher's heart had actually stopped, the light would have gone out. This calmed Vina a little, and she looked at her son, surprised by his strange immobility. Phil stared past her with fixed eyes. In the complete silence, Vina heard her own heartbeat distinctly.

There was a stranger in the room.

'Who you are?' she asked, afraid that she was about to lose consciousness. Instead she felt a surge of strength that even allowed her to take her head off the pillow.

'Friend', the stranger replied. 'I'm sure, a friend.'

'What do you need?'

'I need Starfleet Captain Christopher Pike.'

'How is it?' Vina was surprised. 'What do you want from Chris? Hasn't he already sacrificed everything for the service? Take a look at him!'

The stranger threw up his hands.

'And you look around! He revived the civilization of Talos IV without getting up from a wheelchair. I need him.'

'Then why are you even talking to me?' asked Vina. 'If you need Chris, talk to him.'

'I'm talking to you because I want to,' said the stranger. 'Of course, I'll ask him. I can't force him to do what I need if he doesn't want, and I can't force him to want.'

'I ought to know', Vina smiled weakly. 'Well, if you want to revive some other civilization, and Chris can help you, he is unlikely to refuse!'

'Would you refuse?' the stranger asked.

'Me?' the woman was confused. 'Does it matter? I'm dying.'

'Is it your own choice?' the stranger raised an eyebrow. 'I mean, die.'

'Don't!' tears welled up in Vina's eyes. 'I want to be with Chris wherever he is. I want to raise my son. I want a daughter...'

'A daughter? Without me', the stranger sneered.

'I would go anywhere for Chris', Vina said. 'Once I refused because I didn't want to be a burden… sorry… of course it doesn't matter to you. It is beyond my power to make a choice whether to live or die.'

'It doesn't matter to me', said the stranger. 'Make your choice.'


End file.
